Fighting Their Attraction

by Nicole Flockton

  “Wow, congratulations. That’s awesome. I’ve not watched the X Games, but I know they’re pretty big events.”

  “Thanks. They’re intense and highly competitive. Good training for the Games.” He smiled and dug into his food, the chicken melting in his mouth. When he’d been in Paris, he’d taken one bite of the dish and decided there and then it was his favorite French food. This serving was as good as the one he’d had in France.

  They ate in silence until it was broken by the sound of a knife hitting a plate. “How’s your food?” Brady asked.

  “Delicious. Want to try some?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  Arielle scooped up some of the beef and gravy and held the morsel toward him. He leaned in and took hold of the fork. His fingers brushed hers, and his lips closed over the metal tines. Time froze as their eyes met.

  The realization that his lips were in the same place her lips had been moments ago burned through him, heating his already aroused body. Who knew sharing a bite of food could be so intimate?

  Danger! Danger!

  The little voice in his head yelled loudly enough to snap him back to the present. He released his hold and dragged his lips off the utensil. He had no idea what the food tasted like. Need pounded through him like surf in a storm.

  His inner voice was right. It was dangerous being around Arielle. He needed to make his escape and forget he’d ever met her.

  She represented everything he’d spent the last few years avoiding.

  Arielle’s nerves zigzagged like the little silver ball in a pinball machine as they walked back to their accommodations. What had she been thinking when she offered Brady a bite of her food? An action so intimate, and with a guy she’d known for only a couple of hours. Her breath had quickened and her nipples peaked in arousal against her sweater. She had no plans to do that ever again.

  She’d clearly lost her mind. This was the Olympics—the pinnacle of her career. And after she’d bombed her first attempt so spectacularly. She’d spent the last four years training to win gold. Not once had she ever had the urge to share a bite of her food like she’d done with Brady tonight. Not once had she yearned to be kissed by her date the way she was craving to be kissed right now. Not once had she ever thought a guy could make her wonder if there was more to life than her Olympic dream.

  Tonight wasn’t the time to start doubting her goals. Even Brady’s attitude toward her had gone cold, with one-word replies to her comments, when he bothered to do more than grunt. It was like he’d pulled down the shutters and was now closed for business.

  She glanced around; they were at the front of the building where part of the Canadian team was housed. “Okay, well, here’s me.” She stuck out her hand. A handshake was a much better idea to end the evening than the kiss she desired. “Thanks for a good night, Brady. Hope your Games journey is a successful one.”

  Perfect. She was making it clear there would be no more little dinner dates. No more sharing food.

  Damn.

  The word blasted in her mind as his hand engulfed hers and that annoying prickle transferred between them again.

  “I had a nice night, too.” His voice was low and sexy. “Good luck to you, Arielle.”

  She expected him to relinquish his grip on her hand, to walk away. Instead, he kept hold of her. The smart thing would have been to pull her hand from his; only, she didn’t want to break the connection. She made the mistake of looking up at him. He was almost a foot taller than her five-foot-two frame. His mouth was set in a tight line, as though he, too, was warring with himself about what to do next.

  Without thinking it through, she reached up and brushed her thumb across his lips. A groan emitted from him, and a second later, she was wrapped up in his embrace.

  “I shouldn’t do this, but I can’t resist,” he whispered as he lowered his head, blocking the light from the building.

  Her eyes drifted shut as his lips softly connected with hers in the sweetest kiss she’d ever experienced. Her mouth opened beneath his, deepening their connection. Energy sizzled around them, engulfing them in a maelstrom of emotions she had no place feeling.

  Brady broke the link and took a step back. Loss swept through her.

  “Go win gold, Arielle Baldwin,” he said as he brushed a cool finger down her cheek before he swiveled, the snow crunching beneath his booted foot, and walked away.

  A sigh shuddered through her. She could say she’d experienced bliss for one night. One day, she hoped she would experience it again.

  Chapter 3

  The ice seeped through the thin fabric of her training pants. For the second time, she’d failed to land her double Lutz. A jump she’d done a million times and could do in her sleep.

  “What is going on, Arielle Jayne?” her mom admonished her from a few feet away. “You don’t mess up this part of your routine. The triple occasionally, but not the double. Do it again.”

  Placing her hand on the ice, Arielle pulled herself up and shook out her arms and legs. “Sorry, Mom, guess jetlag is still affecting me.”

  Wow, she’d never used that excuse before, and the raised eyebrow currently adorning her mother’s face confirmed her mom’s surprise.

  “Right. Or perhaps it’s because your mind is on a certain snowboarder?”

  What the hell? How could she know about Brady? She hadn’t even been in the country at the time of their dinner date.

  “Who?” Arielle feigned innocence. Hopefully, it would be enough to put her mom off.

  “Don’t try to play the innocent. I know all about your dinner with Brady Thompson the night you arrived.”

  “Okay, so I had dinner with Brady two nights ago. I’m having trouble getting into a good sleeping routine. This is the Olympics, Mom. I’m excited and nervous. I’m having an off day. That’s all. Look, I’ll show you I can land this.” She skated away. Please let that little speech get Mom off my case.

  For the next half hour, Arielle completed her routines, landing both her double and triple Lutzes and spinning like a magic top. Her lungs burned, but she felt a lot more relaxed about her routines than she had when she kept missing the jumps.

  “That’s better,” her mom commented as Arielle skated to her side. “Why don’t you take a couple hours’ break and then meet me back here at three. We can go over it again.”

  Arielle knew better than to argue. Besides, this vigorous training wasn’t anything new. It was the same regime at every world championship or national competition she attended. She may grumble about it, but she loved pushing herself to the limit, feeling her muscles protest at the thought of one more run-through. The difference this time was that Dad was back in Canada, dealing with finalizing his brother’s estate after he’d died suddenly, but Dad hoped to arrive in time for her singles competition. She missed him; he was always the voice of reason between her and Mom when they butted heads.

  “Sure, sounds good.” Arielle skated over to the side of the rink and grabbed her towel, wiping the sweat off her face. “Mom?”

  “Yes, love?”

  Taking a deep breath, she braced herself to ask the question that could lead her into a landmine field she wasn’t sure she was ready to traverse. “How did you know about my dinner with Brady Thompson?”

  “Oh, Evan Coolidge, the British coach, saw you. He was at the same restaurant. He said the two of you appeared to be trapped in your own little world. He remarked that a fight could’ve broken out and you two wouldn’t have noticed.”

  Even though her tone was light, beneath that lightness lay unhappiness at her daughter’s public display. If that was Evan’s impression of the two of them, who else had come to the same conclusion?

  The only time she’d have said Evan’s comment was accurate had been when she’d shared her food with Brady. Her attention had been focused solely on him. It had also been at that moment that he’d shut off from her. He’d returned to monosyllabic answers to her questions. Until the kiss in front of her building.
r />   A hand landed on her shoulder. “Honey, are you okay?”

  As much of a hard taskmaster and tough coach as her mom was, at the end of the day, she was still Mom, and occasionally, they had that mother-daughter relationship where they shared secrets and gave advice.

  “I’m fine, Mom. I can’t lie. For a little while, I was caught up in being out with a good-looking guy. I don’t get to date much.”

  “I know. But you—”

  “Yeah, Mom. I’m at the Olympics. A gold medal is what I’ve always wanted. After not making the finals in 2014, I want it even more now. I had one dinner with Brady. That’s it. I haven’t seen him since, don’t plan to, and I don’t think he’ll be seeking me out either.”

  Arielle willed herself not squirm like a three-year-old while her mother studied her. Finally, she nodded. “Okay, if you say you haven’t seen him, I have to believe you. Don’t lose sight of the end goal, baby girl. See you at three.” She leaned in and kissed Arielle on the cheek before skating away.

  Arielle blew out a breath. She’d dodged a bullet there. What she’d told her mom had been true. She hadn’t seen Brady, and he certainly hadn’t sought her out. No contact between them was for the best. She knew, in her mind, that it was. But her damned romantic heart had other ideas.

  The air became cooler and cooler as Arielle walked down the tunnel of the practice arena a few hours later. The soft swish, swish of blades skimming over ice reached her. The fact someone else was practicing didn’t come as a surprise. With the Games close to starting, more and more athletes were cramming in training sessions. She’d have to make sure she didn’t get in the other person’s way when she went through her moves.

  The rink came into view, and a lone male skater whizzed over the ice, his movements mesmerizing in their graceful beauty. He was tall for a skater, and as cheesy as it sounded, he was poetry in motion. There was no music playing. It was clear he was part of a pair’s team as his arm rose to allow his invisible partner to twirl beneath it. She looked around to see if his partner and coach were nearby. But the area was empty.

  He was at the opposite end of the rink, so she silently slipped into a seat close to the front to see who he was when he skated past her. Partners skating had never been on her radar, but if she’d seen this guy at the rink, she’d have been all over teaming up with him and entering pairs competition. Maybe even ice dance with the way his body flowed from one move to the next. He was that good.

  Effortlessly, he changed direction and executed a double Lutz. The same move that had been her nemesis that morning. Her breath caught in her throat as his foot planted into the ice, a cascade of sparkles flying through the air, before he pushed off and picked up speed.

  Who is this guy?

  She’d been on the skating scene for a long time. Been to countless world championships. Surely, she would’ve seen him around. A skater as good as this didn’t go unnoticed. As he whooshed past her, she caught a glimpse of his face. Her jaw dropped.

  Brady?

  No, that’s impossible. He’s a snowboarder, not a skater.

  As the lone skater continued around the rink, she quickly took off her shoes and laced up her skates. The only way she was going to confirm her suspicion was by going out there.

  Oh, she wouldn’t barge in and cause him to fall or run into her. The last thing either of them needed was an injury only a couple days out from one of the world’s biggest events.

  Happy with the tightness of her laces, she stood and carefully made her way to the small gate that would grant her access to the ice. Once on the rink, she dug her blades in to get a good grip then pushed off on her front leg, keeping close to the half wall that surrounded the arena.

  Brady, if it was him, was at the other end spinning rapidly. He came out of the spin, arched his back, and flung a hand in the air. Even with the majority of the rink between them, she could see his chest heaving as he fought to catch his breath.

  Arielle brought her hands together and started clapping. The sound echoed around the arena, and his body went rigid.

  “That was amazing. Breathtaking,” she gushed as she skated toward him.

  “Arielle? Is that you? Fuck.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. She’d been right. It was Brady. And judging by the expletive he’d muttered, he wasn’t happy he’d been seen.

  She came to a halt in front of him. “Yeah, it’s me. Why the heck are you snowboarding, Brady? You should be on the ice. You’d be winning gold after gold. I’ve never seen anything as stunning as that routine.”

  After their dinner, she’d taken advantage of the fact that Tina wasn’t back and watched some videos of Brady snowboarding on YouTube. They were impressive, for sure, but nothing like the beauty of what she’d witnessed just now.

  “I’m not a skater,” he responded flatly, his body giving off back-the-hell-away-and-leave-me-alone vibes. Tough. She wasn’t going to let his grumpy-bear attitude put her off. “Right, and I really do compete in the luge.”

  “Leave it, Arielle.” Brady skated away from her, and she followed, determined to find out why he was wasting a natural talent that wannabe ice skaters would give their eyeteeth for.

  His legs ate up the distance to the exit quickly, and she found herself puffing by the time she reached the bench where he sat unlacing his skates.

  “Brady?” The rest of her words lodged in her throat at the glare he sent her way. His eyes were as cold as the ice she still stood on.

  “I said leave it, Arielle. It’s none of your damn business. Forget you saw me here.” He stood and picked up his skates, striding down the tunnel.

  She had no idea how long she gazed into the black space, waiting for him to come back into the light.

  “Arielle. Arielle, are you okay? You were looking directly at me but ignored me when I waved.” Her mom’s voice penetrated her trance.

  “Sorry, Mom. I was thinking through my routine.” She gave herself a mental shake. After this morning’s debacle of a practice session, she couldn’t afford to have another crappy one, particularly as a couple other Canadian skaters were also going to be practicing at the same time. The last thing she wanted to do was let her teammates down.

  While her parents were her individual coaches, the overall team coach decided who would be in the team event. As the reigning Canadian champion, her spot in the team event was assured. However, if she showed any reason for the team coach to doubt her, she could be pulled and another skater put in. The team wanted to do a clean sweep and win gold in all the events. No way was she going to let her teammates, not to mention her parents, down.

  “You had a bad morning. This afternoon will be better.” Won’t it? remained unspoken, but Arielle got the gist.

  “Yes, it will.”

  She skated out to the middle of the ice, took her starting position, and waited for her routine music to be pumped through the speakers.

  She had this.

  Chapter 4

  Brady stood under the shower and let the water wash over him, hoping it would sweep away the scales of regret clinging to his skin after he’d been so harsh with Arielle at the rink.

  He turned off the water and grabbed a towel, rubbing it briskly over his body. He never should’ve taken up Maybelle’s offer to use her and Bohdan’s allocated practice time. He should’ve walked away when he saw her standing by the entrance of the arena, a large bag slung over her shoulder. She’d asked him to meet her because she wanted a favor. He looked at it as a chance to begin to mend the broken stitches of their friendship, so he’d agreed to her request to chat—not skate. And that talk had sorted a few things out. Maybe that’s why he’d succumbed to the skates’ lure when she’d held them out. Before he’d given it up, skating had been a way to clear his head.

  So he’d taken the offer.

  He pulled on thermal underwear before donning jeans and a sweater. What he should’ve done was wait out the snowstorm and then headed up to the mountains so he could practice the routines he
actually used. Not one he hadn’t performed in more than eight years. The fact he still had the muscle memory to complete the routine he and Maybelle had done to win the pairs World Junior Figure Skating Championship surprised the hell out of him. He’d transitioned from move to move as if he’d been doing it every day since that competition so long ago.

  The rush of adrenaline that had surged through his body when he’d been out on the ice had been exciting, but it wasn’t the competitive, blood-thumping excitement he experienced as he flew down a steep slope, went over jumps, or glided down a rail in his slopestyle competitions. Or when he slid over the ice edge into a half pipe.

  Arielle had witnessed it all. Witnessed him twisting, turning, and jumping. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the bright smile on her face. The way the soft tendrils of hair that had escaped from her ponytail kissed her cheek. Her long-sleeved pink leotard that clung to her body, highlighting the sweet curve of her breasts, her legs encased in flesh-colored stockings, the gauzy skirt hugging her waist.

  Not once when he’d been paired up with Maybelle had he been attracted to her in her practice outfit. Granted, she was two years younger than him. But he’d been a teenage guy with raging hormones. A reaction to a pretty girl was a given back then.

  “Fuck,” he ground out as he pulled on his boots. The past was in the past. There was no point thinking about it. But now that he’d started down that road, he couldn’t stop. Those years he’d been an ice skater were some of the best, and the worst, of his life. He knew he’d hurt Maybelle when he’d walked away from their partnership. But it was what he’d had to do for his own sanity. He couldn’t take any more of the sly comments his non-skating friends directed at him. Nor could he put up with the continual condescension from his father.

  Thompson men don’t do namby-pamby sports like ice skating. They play football or rugby. How the hell you even started skating is beyond me. I blame that Simon person, flouncing around like a girl. No son of mine is going to turn into some wimp.